


I'm sorry, what was that?

by S2_501



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at humour, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Drunk Harry is confused, Drunken Shenanigans, Flustered Draco Malfoy, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23451343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S2_501/pseuds/S2_501
Summary: Frequent misheard words that lead to them finally realising their unrequited interest was very much requited.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 158





	I'm sorry, what was that?

Another win for team free will! Wait, that wasn’t right. What was their name again? What was his name again? _Harry. Your name’s Harry. I think._ Harry, or whatever his name was, lifted his head from the table in the pub. He grimaced when he felt the coaster stick to his face. The world was blurry for a bit, but then his glasses slid down from his forehead and the world was right again. Sort of.

He noticed the man beside him. He was slowly sipping a clear liquid. His bright crystal-like eyes watched the whole room with precision Harry didn’t think he could ever accomplish in his current state. The man was dressed very casually. He wore a tight cream turtleneck under a dark denim jacket. The jacket had multiple pins on the collar. One was a badge saying ‘Potter stinks’. The words brought a sour memory to his mind, but he couldn’t figure out why. He picked the coaster off his cheek and sat up with a sigh.

His sigh drew the other man’s attention to him. He raised his eyebrow at Harry and took a longer sip.

“Are you finally back with the rest of us?” He asked, gently placing the glass on top of another coaster. His one seemed cleaner than the one Harry pried off his cheek. His tone suggested that he was very done with Harry, but surely he must have been a nice person if he had stayed by Harry’s side. 

“Who is us? Who are we? What are we?” Harry slurred, leaning towards the blond man.

“Merlin, he’s asking deep questions,” the man groaned. He grabbed a tall glass and handed it over to Harry, “here, have a sip of this.”

Harry stared at the glass for a few seconds, “I was told not to talk to strangers, or accept things from them.”

The man rolled his eyes, “it’s just water. If I wanted to poison you, I would have done so in the past. Merlin knows how many chances I’ve had during our stakeouts.”

“Steak? Are we chefs?”

That made him laugh, “how is it possible that you can get any more ridiculous than you are normally? I thought there was a limit. It seems you’ve surpassed it.” The man didn’t sound very drunk, he spoke so eloquently.

Harry tilted his head and stared at the glass. His gut feeling told him to trust the other man, and he always relied on his instincts. They were very good – most of the time. He picked up the glass and took a careful sip. Upon discovering it was only water, he finished half the glass. He wiped the excess water off his lips and smiled at the other man.

“Merci, mon ami. It seems that je suis très soûle…” Harry slurred. He shook his head and blinked into the air. Since when did he speak… Spanish? French? 

“Oh quite right, you are my sun.” The man’s eyes were sparkling with mirth.

Harry thought he looked quite pretty. His light blond hair suited him perfectly. Harry wondered if it was as soft as he thought it would be. He rubbed his fingers, sorely tempted to reach across and touch his hair. But that was impolite right? If he was a stranger, it would be _quite_ rude to suddenly touch them without permission.

Harry’s rambling thoughts were broken when the man hiccoughed, giving away that he wasn’t as sober as he acted. It reminded Harry of what the man incorrectly said.

“No no, the sun is le soleil, I said soûle… sooow leeeh. Not suh ley…” Harry looked into the glass. Honestly, when _did_ he pick up French?

The man shook his head, eyes widening and cheeks turning pink at what he said, “right. Right. I simply misheard you. And you _did_ pick up French. Just today, in fact, through a translating charm. It’s probably not worn off yet.”

Harry nodded slowly, “translating charm? What, like a bracelet charm? Also, _who are you_? I can’t keep calling you ‘the man’ in my head.”

“What if I am ‘the man’?” He asked with that darned eyebrow raised again.

Harry blinked owlishly. _Okay_ , maybe he shouldn’t ever drink again. He shook his head, not too fast, it hurt too much if he did. “No no, you don’t seem like ‘the man’...”

“My name is Draco,” The man– Draco finally confessed. 

“Draco.” Harry tried out, he liked how it rolled off his tongue. He ignored the man sputtering next to him. “Draaaaay cooooo… Drahh cooo…” his head fell onto the table again.

Draco seemed to recover himself since he straightened and stood up. “Okay, that’s it. I’m getting you home.” He went over to Harry’s side of the table and picked him up by the elbow.

“How do you know where I live?” Harry asked, trying to pry himself free – unsuccessfully.

“I just do, but you're in no state to be alone right now.”

“Wuh–?”

“Shh, just walk with me.”

Harry figured it would be okay to listen to Draco. Gut instincts etcetera.

–◊–◊–◊–◊–

The morning after, Harry awoke with a throbbing headache. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, trying to figure out if what he ate was a dead animal or if he swallowed garden soil. He sat up rubbing his eyes. The blanket that was covering his shoulders fell onto his lap. He looked down at the soft-looking navy blue velvet throw. This was not his blanket, nor was it his sofa. He picked up his glasses which were on the floor beside the sofa. The room wasn’t his either.

“Would you like some coffee?”

The voice startled Harry. There, by the door, watching him in amusement was Draco. He was leaning his hip against the door, holding a steaming mug. Harry could smell the caffeine from where he sat.

“You’re a lifesaver. Please,” Harry made grabbing motions with his hands and smiled at Draco once he gave it to him. He took a sip and sighed in pleasure. The heat was already distracting him from the dancing pixies in his brain, “Merlin, why did I drink so much last night?”

Draco shrugged and shoved Harry aside so he could sit beside him, “heck if I know.”

Harry hummed, taking another sip. They sat in silence for a while, before Draco slapped his thighs and stood up. “Right then, I’ll get breakfast started. You still like them sunny-side-up right?”

Harry nodded and placed the mug on the coffee table before him. He paused before placing it on the silver-plated coaster. Something about ‘coasters’ and the word ‘sunny’ was making him wonder.

“Say, did I say something weird last night?”

Draco shook his head, but he seemed too fast. Like he was expecting it. “None more than usual. I’ll just get the–”

Harry snapped his fingers, “Soleil!” He looked at Draco and inspected him. Watching as he evaded Harry’s eyes. “...You called me... _your sun_?”

Draco shook his head, “that would be impossible. I cannot have a child my own age. Think with your brain Harry.”

He walked off before Harry could continue. _What a stupid excuse_ , he surmised. Being Draco’s Auror partner this past year was very educational. Whenever Draco was flustered, he tended to say things without thinking about it properly. It also made Harry see him in a different light. He was interested to see if they could be more; they certainly had the chemistry. They knew each other’s tells and were so attuned to each other that they didn’t have to communicate verbally whenever they duelled dark wizards. If this was going to progress into further – like he had been hoping for the past two months – then he needed this confrontation now.

He stood up and followed Draco to his kitchen. Harry smiled to himself, he found joy in being able to navigate his way around Draco’s home. That it was familiar to him. He found Draco opening his cupboard to retrieve the salt. Throwing caution to the wind, he stopped behind Draco and leaned his chin on his shoulder.

He felt the man stiffen and smirked, “you know I meant sun, as in the giant ball of gas in the sky. Not son as in offspring. Merlin, you sure do like misunderstanding me don’t you?” 

For being so good at silent communication, they sucked at speaking out loud to each other.

Draco huffed and pushed against his forehead, “your breath stinks, Potter. I have a spare toothbrush ready. For the love of Merlin, go freshen up before you even think about talking to me.”

Harry blushed. He forgot about that minute detail, “BRB!” He ran back out into the hallway and ran to the downstairs bathroom. He quickly washed his face and brushed his teeth. The time alone gave him a chance to think things through. Was he really going to go through with this? He stared at his reflection and pointed to himself, “you’ve got this!” The reflection winked back at him, ‘you’ve got this’ it mimicked and threw in some finger guns. How Draco’s mirror knew about the concept of finger guns escaped Harry as he left the bathroom.

He headed back to the kitchen, jogging as the enticing smell was simply calling to him. He slipped a few times since he was only wearing socks. He could detect some hints of cinnamon, which meant one thing. French toast. Specifically _Draco_ ’s French toast. It was a speciality of Draco’s Harry came to discover (and love) during the year of their partnership. Draco’s French toast was _to die for_.

“You made French toast?”

Draco looked up from pouring the tea, “yeah. Thought it’d help.”

Harry sighed happily and decided to give it another shot – this time hugging him from behind instead, “Merlin you’re the best.”

Draco hesitated briefly before leaning back into him ( _Score!_ ) and patted his hand against Harry’s, where it was resting just above his belly button. “Took you long enough to recognise, but it’s okay. I’ll accept it. Better late than never, they say.”

Harry hummed, “sure.”

He backed off so that they could continue on with their breakfast.

–◊–◊–◊–◊–

Two weeks later, Ron whistled as he walked into the coffee room on their floor. When he did, all he could do was stare; his whistling fading until he was just pouting. There in front of him stood Harry and Draco. They were facing the same direction, and Harry’s arms encased Draco. His palms resting on the counter in front of them. Harry’s chin was resting on Draco’s shoulder. The two were whispering into each other’s ears.

Ron scowled, he knew they were together. Harry couldn’t keep a secret for the life of him. As such, he was aware of Harry’s growing crush and had prepared two scenarios. One for when Draco eventually rejected him, and one for when they got together. He didn’t know why he thought scenario two was most unlikely. Draco acted like a bee drawn to pollen whenever he was around Harry. Or like a cat following those laser things in those videos Hermione showed him the other day.

“Mon soleil, the Weasel’s here.” Draco turned to face Ron and grinned at the unease he could read from his face.

Harry quickly backed off and smiled at Ron, rubbing the back of his neck, “hey mate.”

“Hey, indeed. Robards just sent a memo, there’s a new mission. Transatlantic. How do you two feel about Canada?” He spoke as fast as he could so he could get away quicker. He was all too familiar with the Honeymoon phase so he wanted to leave posthaste.

Harry looked at Draco, “they speak French there right?”

Draco winked at Harry, “oui.”

Ron shook his head. He did _not_ want to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if translations are necessary but:
> 
>  _je suis très soûle_ \- I am very drunk  
>  _le soleil_ \- the sun


End file.
